Cousins
by ProudDyspraxicWriter
Summary: It's 1999. Lemony Snicket is ninety six years old and on his deathbed. There's only one person he wants to see in his last moments. His cousin. Lemony/Charles


**I originally wrote a few months ago as part of a contest on 667 Dark Avenue. The theme was to make up a weird pairing and write about it. I came up with Lemony/Charles. They aren't really cousins, I know; that's just something I imagined up. I imagine Charles' mother being the younger sister of Lemony's father.**

Cousins

With each heaving wheeze, an electric shock of pain was sent rippling throughout the old man's body. The sharp discomfort in his lungs began to dull, and he braced himself for another pang as he got ready to inhale again. He laid perfectly still, his wrinkled, bald head propped up by a mountain of pillows. The sound of his heart monitor beat steadily on, the stubbornness of his own heart driving him insane. But right at that moment, there came another sound; falling from the Heavens, it seemed. He turned softly to face the window. Outside, the retired journalist could see grey rainclouds looming as though God Himself was waiting for the perfect moment to steal his last breath away. The sound of the raindrops smacking hard against the glass had almost become music to his ears. Each pitter-patter was a strum of a cello, the cellist alone in an empty concert hall. On his deathbed, he supposed he should have been feeling thankful. After all, it would be the last time he could listen to and see a rainy day. But he couldn't care less about the terrible weather. His true dying wish was to meet his long-lost cousin one more time before slipping away into the darkness. That was all that he wanted; to be able to hold his cousin's hand and to tell him how grateful he was to be blessed with such a loving relative. He'd never had the courage before now. He couldn't exactly remember the moment he had been keeping this strange, unusual but wonderful secret. It had always been there, ever since he was a young man; ever since he saw the boy dance underneath the summer sun that fateful morning they had that picnic together. Now that he was drawing close to his last day on Earth, it had almost become agony keeping it locked up in his heart for so long. There was something inside him, some dark part of his conscience – if he had one – begging him to reveal the truth. It had become unbearable; so much more than the burden of a lost love. If Charles never knew how much he meant to him, then he didn't know what would happen. So he put in the request to his nurses, praying that the message would arrive in time. But as the days dragged on and as the nonagenarian's old age started to pull him further down, no word came from Charles. The man would plead his nurses to bring him to him, but not even the promises of leaving jewellery to them in his will could reunite these lonely cousins. He shouldn't have worried, though, because no matter where a volunteer was in the world, they would always receive the message. With the aid of Charles' adopted son Gerald, the two men were finally brought together again after sixty one years.

" Mr. Snicket?" came the muted whisper of Nurse Weller.

Lemony Snicket grunted sleepily as he snapped awake from his trance. Through his blurred vision, he could make out the figure of his favourite nurse. He smiled softly at her when he realised that he was not in any danger.

" Mr. Snicket, you have visitors here to see you," she went on in her honey-sweet tone.

" What are you waiting for?" he wheezed hopefully. " Bring them in!" He let out a hacking cough, his entire body shaking violently.

As the coughing spell ended, he watched closely as the youthful fifty-five year old Gerald and the tall skinny figure of his father wandered into the room. A broad, toothless grin spread across Lemony's face and his hazel-brown eyes lit up with joy; something he had not done in several decades. The elderly Charles stepped forward, his arms outstretched to greet his cousin, his grin almost outshining Lemony's.

" Oh, Lemony," Charles whispered through a chuckle of disbelief. Gerald pulled up a chair for his father to sit on, while he stood quietly in the back, respectful of their privacy. " How long has it been?"

" I lost count after the second decade," the former detective quipped, grinning broadly. But then, his face changed. A sudden air of sadness overwhelmed the sick old man. " I've really missed you," he muttered after a brief pause.

" And I've missed you," replied Charles. He was a little hesitant at first, but he had to know. " How come you never contacted me?" he asked. " I sent you an invitation to Sir's funeral, but you never came."

" Oh, I was there," Lemony whispered. He raised his eyebrows knowingly.

" I didn't see you there."

" I was in disguise."

" The crying woman?"

" You betcha."

Charles let out a light chuckle and smiled sadly at the memory. It had been nearly fifty years since the death of his beloved partner, but the heartbreak was just as fresh as ever, knowing that he could never move on. He gazed upon the pale, wrinkled face of his cousin and unexpectedly burst into tears. The tears rolling down his cheeks, he caressed the old man's chin as tenderly as he could. " But why only now?" he riddled bitterly through his sobs. " Why do you want me of all people to be here?"

Uncertainly, Lemony lifted his head. His gaze fell upon Gerald, who was still standing by the door, shuffling his feet. " Thanks, Gerald. We'll be all right," he whispered weakly.

" Are you sure?" the younger man asked hesitantly.

His father turned to take a tear-stained look at him. " Go wait outside. Your Uncle Lemony and I have got some things to talk about. Go on. Go chat up some nurses or something."

Gerald obeyed, though offended by his father's last remark. He was, after all, married to a wonderful woman who had recently mothered two of his children. He closed the door quietly behind him, leaving the two nonagenarians to wallow in the secret world that they called their own. Charles turned his attention on to his dying cousin once again. He sniffed and wiped his nose on his sleeve. Lemony observed, taking in every detail of his aged cousin. Never in a million years had he thought he would see a child he used to babysit as an old man. It was certainly a strange feeling to experience.

" What's going on, then?" Charles went on.

Lemony heaved a sigh, even though it caused him pain to breathe. He swallowed nervously. He could feel the last drops of his life ebbing away. " Charles…Please try to understand…" he said.

" Understand what?" he answered uncertainly.

Lemony offered a weak but loving hand. Charles wasted no time in taking it. The men's fingers intertwined in an affectionate, familial gesture, Charles brought the warmth of all the years they had spent together to Lemony's trembling hand.

" I just want you to know that…I never set out to lose contact with you…"

" Of course you didn't! It was VFD that kept us apart!"

Lemony shook his head. " No. Not VFD. I was afraid…You were so loyal to Sir. I couldn't…"

" Couldn't what, Lemony? Couldn't what?" Charles asked, feeling slightly uneasy in his older cousin's presence. He never let his hand loose from Lemony's.

" Why do you think Beatrice wrote that two hundred-page book?" he whispered, tears welling up in his hazel eyes.

" She couldn't marry you. You know that. Lemony, what is going on?" Charles asked again.

" But _why _couldn't she marry me, Charles? Because…Because I was in love with someone else. I had always been in love with someone else. I am _still _in love with someone else."

Charles' eyes widened and he gave an almighty gulp.

" I wanted to tell you before it killed me," Lemony wheezed.

And then Charles realised. He gasped and shuddered in horror, but his hand stayed firmly in Lemony's. He tried to stifle his sobs, but failed. The elderly man began to wail and howl like a newborn baby. " Lemony, Lemony, Lemony! Oh, Lemony!" he sobbed. " Lemony!"

The rhythm of the heart monitor – _Lemony's heart _– began to slow until it was nothing more than a single continuous bleep. Lemony's hand, the hand that had written so many treacherous books and newspaper articles, slid from Charles' and his arm flopped back down on to the bed. His sullen hazel-brown eyes stared straight ahead as he slipped out of consciousness, and Charles realised that he had never taken a proper look at them. Because there was his love for him, where it had always been, never to be seen or heard. Charles sniffed and he leant forward. For the first time in over half a century, he pressed his lips against his cousin's forehead, leaving a romantic word in the dead man's ears.

" I love you, too, Lemony."


End file.
